Yellow
by evenker
Summary: Alyssa Rendan has always been Amity. Her aptitude test results were Amity, and she has no intention of leaving her home. But when, at the last second, she changes her mind, she is left to struggle with herself and the consequences of the choices that she has made.


Yellow is my color. Everywhere I look I see yellow. I wear, think, and breathe it. It helps keep me positive. Sometimes I struggle, but I always come out better than before. Amity is my faction, and Amity is where I will stay, even though the Choosing Ceremony is tomorrow and most of my friends are leaving. Only Emily has told me, but I could tell from the first day I spent with the rest of them that they didn't belong, and didn't want to either. They were always unsure about what Amity believed.

My aptitude test results were Amity, and I couldn't bear to leave my family anyway. I couldn't bear to leave the happy yellow that is mine, and the place where peace dwells and everyone loves one another. I mean, me, move to a faction like Erudite or Dauntless? Dauntless fights for fun. How could I possibly bear that? What about Candor? They claim to be honest but they're so selfish and rude – and definitely not happy.

I will never go anywhere else, and I've always known it.

* * *

I walk into the room, wearing a smile on my face. This year it is Amity's turn to host the Choosing Ceremony, and I feel light. It will make it easier to choose when I'm in my home, not that I'd choose anything but Amity otherwise.

The sixteen-year-olds from other factions smile nervously at each other, but don't say anything. As I make my way to the others, I make quiet judgments about the people around me. How can Abnegation always wear gray? I'd be so depressed I wouldn't be able to handle it.

Leaning over to Emily, I whisper, "Are you still going to choose Candor?"

She replies, "I'm not so sure anymore. How can I leave you and my family?"

While I hope, internally, she stays, I want to make her happy. "Don't worry about us. We'll be fine. You need to do what your aptitude tests said, or whatever you feel is right."

Smiling, she looks over at me and says boldly, "I'll miss you, Alyssa."

This time I don't smile. "I'll miss you, too, Emily."

The Choosing Ceremony begins, and my stomach churns, though I'm not sure why. Suddenly, the lights seem too bright and the faces seem too happy and everything around me is spinning. I can barely hear the voice of the Amity hosting the ceremony.

"Welcome, everyone. Today your sons and daughters of sixteen will choose the life they wish to lead."

I drown out everything else. My mind is crowded with overbearing thoughts and my heart turns cold. I cannot think or breathe and even the Amity smiles I am so accustomed to seem strange. The man starts to call out names but it seems that I cannot hear him. How will I know when to step forward? How will I choose?

They call Emily's name and she steps forward, taking a look back at me. I smile halfheartedly, as much as I can muster. She turns back and determinedly, cuts herself with the knife, letting her blood drip over the Amity bowl. Looking back at me, she grins. I smile back, surprised but not so sure anymore that I will choose to stay home. What do you mean? You've known your whole life what you're going to choose. Your aptitude test resulted in Amity. What are you saying? I ask myself too many questions and my mind is overrun. I have stopped moving, stopped smiling, stopped everything.

Until I hear my name.

"Alyssa Caroline Rendan."

I do not step forward. I can't move. Why is this so hard? Someone nudges me hard in the back and I remember myself. Taking a cautious step towards the audience, I clasp the knife given to me by the man hosting the ceremony. He is dressed in all red. Why is he dressed in red? Oh, yes, because that is one of the colors Amity wears.

I barely mutter a thank you when he hands me the knife. I head straight for the Amity bowl, but something stops me. Something in my mind hisses, you don't belong. Restraining myself from hissing back at it, I don't move. Of course I belong, don't I?

Before I know what I'm doing, I slice my hand with the knife, and my blood drips over the bowl.

The Dauntless bowl.

Tears sprout from my eyes as my parents' faces fall, and Emily's mouth makes a gaping "o." I stand there in silence before taking my place with the Dauntless initiates. Everyone in the room looks confused. Whispers spread like wildfire throughout the crowd — an Amity transferring to Dauntless has never been heard of.

I take my rightful place with the others, barely breathing. If I didn't know Emily enough to know that she never cries, I would've thought I'd seen tears in her eyes. But how could she not cry? After all, I had betrayed her and my family. What came over me? This isn't what I want. I don't want this, I don't.

I brush the tears away before anyone else can see. I'm Dauntless now – I have to be brave. The words sound foreign to my tongue. I've never had to be brave before.

There must have been a mistake. I didn't choose Dauntless, I chose Amity. That's what I've always wanted. Even my aptitude tests resulted in Amity. But was that because Amity was what I really wanted, or because the values I had inherited were driven into my head so deep they couldn't be removed? Maybe somewhere I'm not that person. Maybe I am Dauntless.

Are you crazy? My mind throws questions at me, criticizing and tormenting. How will I pick up a weapon, after everything I've been taught? How will I fight? They flood my mind, but I push them away. Thinking this much is giving me a headache.

Shortly thereafter the ceremony ends. I run with the other Dauntless down the steps, passing my mother and father without so much as a glance in their direction. It would hurt too much to see them again, and as much as I want to, I can't bear it.

On my way down the steps, I almost trip, and a flash of the world I used to know slips into my mind. Orchards. Peace. Smiles. The color yellow. How can I leave this? What have I done? My surroundings spin as I follow the other initiates, racing outdoors into a dank, gray world I barely know.

* * *

Running with the other initiates alongside a train, breathing heavily, I feel the urge to stop. I've never run this hard or this far – I've never had a reason to. I gasp as, one by one, they start piling into the moving train, jumping and swinging themselves over the side.

"We have to jump on?" I call over the noise of the train. When no one answers, I push myself harder, running faster than I ever have before. Feeling ready, I throw myself sideways in the direction of the train and miss.

As quickly as possible I clutch the railing, my hands burning from the impact. Though tears are sprouting from my eyes no one offers a hand, and I am left with a choice.

I pull myself forward as hard as I can, and when this doesn't work I let out a groan, almost giving up.

Almost.

With Amity on my mind, I pull myself up into the train, my body shaking from the sheer force used in getting into the car. The others glance at me disapprovingly and my cheeks turn red, embarrassed. Why couldn't I swing myself in as easily as the others? I retreat to the corner of the car, hugging my knees, not saying a word to anyone. No one even so much as glances in my direction.

As the train trudges on I wonder what Dauntless is like. I've never left home except to go to school, and what I've seen there can't tell me what goes on outside my safe little bubble. I would ask the Dauntless-born initiates in the train car, but with the annoyed smirks they're giving me, I'm to afraid to ask for anything.

Just seconds later, the initiates start piling out of the moving training, jumping and landing safely, feet away. I know better than to ask questions or be surprised, but I can't help myself. "Doesn't the train at least slow down?" I ask. I receive no answer, which is what I expected, but can't bring myself to jump out. I'm already the last one in the car.

The others look back at me, calling, "If you don't jump out soon, you're going to be factionless! Hurry!"

Still hesitating, I hear someone behind me whisper, "You can do it."

I didn't realize there was anyone still in the train. Startled, I jump — out of the car. I stumble and fall onto the ground, inches from the tracks. My knee is cut, blood seeping out, and I moan, struggling to stand up.

"If you're going to cry now, you're not going to make it far through initiation." That same voice again. I turn.

"What do you know?" I retort. I'm surprised at the sound of my own voice, having never talked like that before.

He smirks, and walking forward, states flatly, " More than you."

Shaking my head softly, I glare at his back and stand up, feeling the burn as the blood drips slowly down my leg. I ignore it. "Hey, what's your name!" I call to him.

Not even turning his head, he shouts back, "Elijah!"

I can't help but acknowledge how much I like the sound of it.

Christa is my initiation instructor, and now she's telling me to jump off of a building.

"This is just the beginning of initiation," Christa smiles at us, but I don't see what there is to smile about. "If you're scared, you better walk out now. Who wants to volunteer?"

Struggling to restrain myself from walking away from everything, I stare at the edge of the building. How can I possibly jump off? Isn't that dangerous? They're threatening people's lives and they don't even care — they just kick you out if you're not brave enough to do it. Who would be brave enough to jump off a building? Maybe Elijah, or the girl with the cropped black hair who was Dauntless-born, but not me. I will not jump off a building.

I notice that the first person to volunteer is Elijah. He slips through the group of initiates and says to Christa, "I'll go first." For some reason, my heart speeds up and I feel worried for him as he says this. It must be the Amity in me. Slowly, he walks to the edge of the platform. I feel my heartbeat quicken and my breathing stop. The girl next to me nudges my shoulder, "He's done this a million times before. Why are you so worried?" She asks it like it's a bad thing. I respond with a feeble, "I don't know," and wish I hadn't been so sensitive. She probably thinks I like him or something. Smirking, she turns away and watches Elijah get ready to jump. It's almost as if she knows what I'm thinking, knows how to annoy me. Is it something they teach in other factions or something?

"By the way, my name is Nikki," she whispers.

I don't know how to respond. I just turn back to Elijah and anticipate his next move. Slowly he scoots to the edge, taking a deep breath. Before I know it, he's jumped and my breath catches in my throat. My Amity traits are starting to embarrass me. Nikki smiles at me, and whispers, "Just so you know, there's a net at the bottom." Before I can ponder the fact that the net should make me less afraid, she is running and jumping down into nothing, risking her own death.

She's obviously not scared.

But a net? If there really is something to catch me at the bottom, shouldn't it be something softer, more supportive and strong? I look around me, and everyone but Christa is gone. She looks up at me. "You've got to jump, Alyssa, unless you want to back out. I step forward. "No…" I stutter, "I don't— I don't want to back out." She doesn't smile, and her face doesn't show much emotion, but I can tell she cares at least a little bit; that in some way, she wants me to get through this. So I will. "Go ahead." She nudges me forward.

Making my way to the edge, I take deep breaths. In, out. It's not so bad. It probably isn't even that far down. And there's a net at the bottom. You're fine, I tell myself. You're fine. I close my eyes, pretending I'm back home. I'm nine years old, and I've just climbed a tree in the orchard to get the highest, juiciest apple, and the only way to get down is to jump. It's only a short way down. Somehow I will muster the courage a nine-year-old needs to jump out of a tree and land in the soft grass among the flowers the Amity have so carefully planted in neat rows between the trees.

I take one last step to the very edge, and thrust myself off.


End file.
